


Conversations in the Aftermath

by seekeronthepath



Series: Correspondence [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of the War, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Badass Ladies, Female Friendship, Gen, this is very much a sequel/epilogue to Age and Wisdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 13:10:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekeronthepath/pseuds/seekeronthepath
Summary: An epilogue to Age and Wisdom, in which Minerva, Augusta, and their various friends and acquaintances adjust to a future without war in it





	1. Career meetings...again

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Conversations dans l'après-coup](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16818319) by [Matteic_FR (Matteic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matteic/pseuds/Matteic_FR)



After the Battle of Hogwarts (as it became known), Minerva McGonagall was left with a dilemma. Should she send the children home? They had almost reached the end of the school year, but they hadn't yet begun exams. Certainly the OWL and NEWT students would need to stay. After some consideration, she announced a special service of the Hogwarts Express to bring the junior students home a month early, with the fifth through seventh years to remain until the scheduled end of term. She then made a schedule to meet personally with each senior student, beginning with the seventh years. A few of those conversations, in particular, stood out:

 

 

_Hermi_ _one Granger_

"Well." Minerva gave Hermione a warm smile. "I'm sure you must be very busy preparing for your NEWTS right now, but I hope you don't mind giving up half an hour of study time?"

The girl shook her head, her hands twisted together. "Not at all, Professor. Are these meetings about the war? Only no-one's been saying what you talked to them about, and you were a little vague when you announced them."

"Somewhat," Minerva explained, setting out a plate of biscuits and getting up to make tea. "While you are legally an adult, and very soon to leave these walls, for now you are in my care, and I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't at least ask whether recent events have troubled you. Tea?"

"...oh. Um. Yes, please."

There was a pause as Minerva filled the pot with hot water. "Do take a biscuit, Miss Granger. It's not my intention to intrude on your privacy; only to offer a listening ear, and if you want it, some advice from an old woman with some experience of coming out of this end of things and deciding what to do next."

Eventually, Hermione began to open up, and soon the words were pouring out. "...and I keep finding out about things like the house elves, or the werewolves, and how can I just ignore that? But I don't understand politics enough to actually do anything, and no one ever explains these things!"

Minerva smiled, and listened, and when Hermione ran out of things to say, she said, "I think I can fix at least one of those problems for you."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really," Minerva said decisively. "Now, if you'd come to me like you did at your careers meeting two years ago, focused on learning beyond NEWT level, I would have recommended you for an apprenticeship. Certainly I have plenty of contacts, and almost any of them would be glad to take you on. Knowing you as I do, I would have suggested studying magical theory, or spell creation...with a focus on charms, perhaps, as you've always been particularly remarkable in that area."

"Th-thank you, Professor," Hermione stuttered, blushing at the compliment. 

Minerva smiled. "You're very welcome, as it's entirely deserved," she replied. "But. As I said, if you'd come to me focused on academics, I would have recommended you for an apprenticeship. Instead, you've come to me interested in politics and the law." She sighed, taking a sip of tea. "I'll be honest with you, Miss Granger. Being muggleborn is going to restrict you in that field. It shouldn't, but it will."

"I know that," Hermione said, looking determined. "The wizarding world is incredibly prejudiced, and it's just been getting worse lately. Did you know that blood purity rhetoric was only marginal in the 1960s? And - "

"I do know," Minerva said, cutting her off - not unkindly. "I remember. But we also live at a point of potential change. And in your case, I can offer you an opportunity to be part of that change."

"You can?" Hermione asked hopefully, a fire lighting in her eyes. "How?"

"Lady Longbottom has been asked to become Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," Minerva revealed. "And she's going to need a secretary."

 

 

_Neville Longbottom_

Neville was comfortable in her office, having come there to speak with her in his role as Head Boy several times during the year. "Hello, Professor," he said easily, sitting down in front of her desk. "How are you?"

"I'm well, Neville, thank you," Minerva replied warmly. "And you? Are you doing alright with the battle aftermath?"

Neville looked down for a moment and shrugged. "It's a lot," he admitted. "Even just running back and forth to bring people out of it to the infirmary. And I saw Gran..."

Minerva nodded. "There is very little more terrifying than being the family or friend of a hero," she agreed. "I must admit, she scared me as well."

"She did?" Neville gave her a shocked look. "But I thought..."

"You thought the head of Gryffindor House was never afraid?" Minerva shook her head. "I have often been afraid, Neville, and lately very frequently. My friendship with your grandmother has helped me to bear up under it, but for years I have lived in fear that I would fail the children in my care."

"You've done wonderfully," Neville said stoutly. "Those evacuation plans went perfectly. We didn't even have trouble with the Slytherins."

Minerva smiled fondly at him. "And the credit for that goes to you as well," she said. "I only want you to know that it's alright to have been afraid, and to  _be_  afraid, even now the war is over. And it's alright to be changed by your experiences, or to want different things now that the future looks different."

There was a long, thoughtful pause. "Gran always wanted me to be an Auror..."

"Augusta isn't the important one here," Minerva said firmly. "It's  _your_  life. Soon, you will be Lord Longbottom, and of course you'll have obligations to your family, but that doesn't mean you can't make yourself happy as well."

"...I really do love herbology," Neville admitted. "I know it's not dignified, messing around in the dirt with bubotubers and shrivelfigs..."

"But it's what you enjoy, and what you excel at," Minerva finished. "You'll never be a master of potions, but you've got a good solid grounding, and you'll have a NEWT in magical creatures too, I'm sure. Combined, that prepares you very well for working with apothecaries, if you wanted to directly seek out a profitable venture. You have access to plenty of land for growing what you please. But if you wanted to engage in further study - and Pomona will be sorely disappointed if you don't - then you should  _definitely_  consider a herbology apprenticeship."

"You think I'll be able to find a teacher?" Neville asked.

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "You know better than that. You're Pomona's best student in a decade, and frankly, she'd apprentice you herself if she had time. I'm sure she's got a list a foot long of possibilities. All you have to do is talk to her about what you want."

Neville smiled, a surprisingly charming grin. "Thanks, Professor."

"You're welcome," she replied. "And in private, since you're of age, I think I'll allow Aunt Minerva, if you're willing."

 

 

_Pansy Parkinson_

"Let's address the elephant in the room, shall we?" Minerva said briskly. "I'm well aware you supported Voldemort. I know that, if I had allowed it to be possible for you to betray the school, you probably would have. You expected him to win, and you expected us to lose, and many of us to die. I know it, and you know it."

Miss Parkinson was pale, but resolute. "I do," she said quietly. "May I inquire what you intend to do about it?"

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "Do? I intend to speak frankly with you now, and keep an eye on your career to see what you do with it. I do  _not_  intend to blackmail, extort, threaten, or otherwise harm you with that knowledge. You have a second chance, and I hope that you will use it to do good rather than harm."

"I'm expected to believe that?" Parkinson scoffed. 

"Yes. You are."

 

 

_Harry Potter_

"Well, Mr Potter," Minerva said when he stepped into her office, "you have my congratulations on making it through the war. I know that no young man likes to be called 'sensible', but I'm very grateful you've allowed us to take precautions on your behalf."

Harry smiled at her awkwardly, sitting down opposite her as he'd done many times before. "Thanks, Professor," he said quietly. "And...thanks for looking out for me. If it wasn't for you, I'd probably be dead by now."

"I told your foster-brother two days ago that he could call me Aunt Minerva, and now I offer you the same," Minerva said seriously. "I would have done the same for any student, but I was very glad to be able to do so for you. You are an excellent young man, and I am proud to have been involved in your upbringing. You have my sincerest apology that I didn't discover the way you were being treated sooner than I did."

Harry frowned a little, shaking his head. "How would you have known?"

"I would have known," Minerva told him, "because I could have checked on you. No one minds a stray cat, even in Privet Drive, Little Whinging. But I am afraid I trusted Albus too much, and did not think to do so."

"I think we all trusted him too much," Harry muttered.

Minerva sighed. "I don't disagree with you." She paused. "On a happier note, have you considered what you'll do once you graduate? Since you are no longer expected to save the wizarding world from its own mistakes?"

"I was planning to be an auror," Harry admitted. "Do you think I shouldn't?"

"I think you should spend a year or two with your life  _not_  at risk before you commit to that career path," Minerva replied, offering him the biscuit tin. "Have some fun. You've had little enough time for it so far."

"...that does sound nice." Harry took a biscuit, looking contemplative. "What would I do, though?"

"Well," Minerva said, "have you ever thought about working with snakes? There are magizoologists in India that you could learn from."

 

 

_Ronald Weasley_

"You have grown up surrounded by extraordinary people, Mr Weasley, and that can be dispiriting as well as inspiring," Minerva told him, once they moved from the war to the topic of post-graduation plans. "Your brothers all found their vocations very young, but that doesn't mean you have to. What do you actually enjoy?"

There was a long pause. "...Quidditch, I guess?" Ron said eventually. "I dunno."

Minerva nodded. "Then perhaps you should see if one of the British teams needs anyone for their support staff," she suggested. "Alternatively, you've developed excellent skills in a wide range of subjects, and I have no doubt you'll come out of the NEWT exams well qualified." She glanced at her notes. "You said in fifth year that you'd like to be an auror - is that still true?"

"Harry's not doing that anymore, so..." Ron shrugged. 

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "I didn't ask about Harry," she said. "You don't have to live your life to match his. Would  _you_  like to be an auror?"

 

 

_Blaise Zabini_

"I want to thank you, Mr Zabini, for your part in mitigating Death Eater influence among the students," Minerva said plainly. "Professor Smethwyck was quite clear that by creating a conservative faction which did not support Voldemort, you offered younger students a way to save face and stay safe."

Zabini leaned back in his chair, composed, as always. "I would have acted as I did regardless," he replied. "Professor Smethwyck and yourself were the ones who made me prefect when Malfoy left."

Minerva hummed. What had happened to Draco Malfoy still bothered her. Augusta was arguing for him to be tried as a minor, but they didn't yet know if she'd succeed. "Nevertheless, you have my thanks," she said. "I assume you have nothing to discuss with me about either the war or your future plans?"

Zabini smiled a little. "Nothing at all," he agreed. 

"Then I shall let you return to your studies." 

 

 

It was a somewhat unsatisfying end to the seventh-year meetings, and it left her unsettled. But Minerva put it from her mind, and prepared for her discussions with the sixth years. 


	2. Teachers' Toasts

It was traditional, every year, that after the students left on the Hogwarts Express, the staff had one last dinner together - one with plenty of alcohol, and rather more swearing than was heard during term time. The toasts exchanged were many, both serious and silly, this year no less than any other.

 

"To another year over!"

"To our dead."

"To Lady Longbottom, who finally killed the bastard!"

"To Harry Potter, who survived it all."

"To Tiresias, who took the hardest job in the school in the worst year to do it."

"To Mathieu, who took the unluckiest. May he teach another fifty years!"

"To Filius, who ALREADY taught for fifty years!"

"To Pomona, who ought to know better than making comments about my age. I do remember yours, you know!"

"To Rolanda, Wilhelmina, Bathsheba, Minerva, Irma, Poppy, and Pomona: may everyone forget how old you really are!"

"To Aurora, Septima, Sybill, Rebecca, Mathieu. Enjoy your youth while it lasts."

"To Filius, Rubeus, and Mathieu - and Tiresias, when he feels like it. Representing the foolish sex to the entire student body!"

"To Poppy, who explains sex to the foolish every single year!"

"To Wilhelmina, who's been keeping them out of my infirmary better than Minerva ever did."

"To Wilhelmina, who hasn't had to deal with the Weasley twins."

"To the Weasley twins! May they go out of business quickly!"

"To Bill Weasley, who found  _two_  damned horcruxes."

"To Rebecca, Pomona, Wilhelmina, Septima, Aurora, Bathsheba, Filius...did I forget anyone? To everyone who got the horcrux out of Harry."

"To Harry, killing all those damned dementors."

"To Albus, who I won't speak ill of tonight because he's dead."

"To Minerva! Our esteemed leader, our doughty general, she who marshalled three hundred children and didn't martyr any of them, Head of Gryffindor House for a generation, Transfiguration Professor for two, now embarking on a new voyage as headmistress, crusading against unpleasant staff, idiotic board members, and reckless children, Queen of Hogwarts!"

"To Tiresias, who doesn't know when to shut up when he's drunk, apparently."

"To Severus Snape's hangover cure - drink it now, or regret it tomorrow. Bottoms up!"


	3. The Last Meeting of the Order of Hecate

A few days later, the Order of Hecate (well, the order of Hecate and young Teddy Tonks) met for tea at Longbottom House one last time. Godmother had pressed her claim rather further than grandmother, so the young boy (three months old, and growing fast) was being cradled in Molly's lap rather than Andromeda's while Augusta poured the tea for them all. 

There was something reassuring about a happy baby, Minerva thought to herself, though she'd never been personally attached to them. Children old enough to talk and think and reason? Yes, she liked those, or she wouldn't have spent the last forty years teaching them. But babies and the mess that came with them she'd leave to the parents and grandparents.

An owl came tapping at the window, and Augusta rolled her eyes as she got up to retrieve the letter. A quick glance, and she set it aside. "It's the prison reforms again," she explained. "It was all so much  _easier_  when we didn't have to pay the guards, and never mind the human rights abuses."

"Easier when ten years was a quiet death sentence, too," Andromeda added darkly. "We'd hate to have to think about rehabilitation." It had caused quite a bit of trouble in the trials since the Battle of Hogwarts, that a ten-year sentence sans-Dementors suddenly looked like leniency. 

Amelia sighed. "I've gotten quite a few 'inquiries' about that with gold attached," she admitted. "The problem is that there's been so much injustice since the  _start_  of the last war that there's not much of a foundation to build on. People imprisoned without trial, people tried and then let off, loose definitions of 'self-defence', the absolute  _disaster_  of the whole question about compulsion..."

"Speaking of which, how's young Mr Malfoy?" Minerva asked Andromeda. "You've been looking after him with Sirius, haven't you?"

Andromeda took a sip of tea. "The war left him shaken, though he's loathe to admit it," she murmured. "Which only makes him more defensive, of course. He learned to put a great deal of stock in the family name, and it's not easy, having that foundation shattered." 

Augusta hummed. "I doubt he'll want anything to do with me, but if the opportunity arises, please let him know that I do not wish to see any of the old names die out as a result of this war, not even those of my enemies."

"And tell him from me," Minerva added, "that if he wishes to complete his NEWTs at any stage, I will be glad to assist him with regards to the necessary tutoring." Draco had lost the opportunity to be an honourable Hogwarts graduate now, though he would return to the school at least once - he was scheduled to help with repairs as part of his sentence. He had been a very clever child, very motivated, very magically skilled. If not for his father, he would have been one of the great successes of his year.

"I'll do that," Andromeda agreed.

 

"Oh!" Amelia said, reaching into her bag. "Before I forget, I have lordship gifts for Harry and Neville. I'm sorry about the ceremony, but there's enough concern about Longbottoms taking over the Wizengamot without the Minister showing up to a lordship investiture." She placed two small boxes on the table. "Anti-spill ink bottles with an extension charm on them. I find them invaluable in long sessions."

Augusta smiled, tucking the two presents away. "Thank you, Amelia, that's very thoughtful of you. The investiture went well, although it's strange not to sign my name with the regencies anymore. The boys have been talking about proxies for when they leave in the autumn - last I heard, Harry was considering Lupin, which will certainly put the cat among the pigeons."

"Is that legal?" Andromeda asked curiously. "Sirius has been talking a lot about werewolf laws lately, but I'm afraid I can't keep them all in my head."

Amelia nodded. "If it was a Ministry position, he'd likely be excluded, but choice of heir, regent, and proxy is part of lordship privilege. Lord Potter can appoint whichever witch or wizard he wants, and Mr Lupin is definitely one of those."

"It's about time," Molly said briskly. "Just like there ought to be muggleborn representation there, not that the old families would approve it." 

"Well, Neville's already spoken to me about using the Longbottom proxy to get someone from the MIA in the room," Augusta admitted. "On the condition that they consult with me on their voting, I'm inclined to support him."

Andromeda raised her eyebrows. "They'd all be thrilled, of course. Personally, I'd recommend Anne Cooper, she's got a good head for politics, and she speaks well."

Augusta considered it for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Yes, she would do very well. I'll let Neville know."

"Remember it will be his decision," Minerva pointed out. "Just because he's leaving for an apprenticeship doesn't mean he isn't the lord now."

"Yes, well, it will be difficult for him to administrate the House of Longbottom's daily affairs from New Zealand," Augusta said primly.

 

"New Zealand!" Molly exclaimed. "And I thought it was bad when Charlie left for Romania! He's really going all that way?"

"Master Tinaku is in New Zealand, he has agreed to teach Neville, so Neville will be in New Zealand," Minerva confirmed. "He very rarely takes apprentices, especially non-locals."

"Still, that must be twice as far as Harry's going for that snake charming school of his," Molly said, frowning. "How are you going to keep in touch?"

Amelia reached across the table and set her hand on Molly's arm. "The international floo post is very efficient, even if it is expensive," she reassured her. "I'm sure we can manage a regular letter packet."

"They're sensible young men," Minerva said firmly. "Neville particularly is very responsible, and from what I've heard of Master Tinaku, he won't have many opportunities to get into trouble. And Harry knows how to look after himself very well. I'm sure they'll be fine."

Molly sighed, looking down at Teddy. "It's always difficult, letting them go," she said. "I rather thought, well...you've done a marvellous job with Harry, Augusta, but at first I thought it might be me in your place. I did make him a Christmas jumper that first year, never mind that Ron only told me a week before that he wasn't expecting presents."

"Those muggles deserved a great deal worse than they got," Andromeda muttered. "Did anything actually  _happen_  to them?"

Minerva smiled thinly. "Well, of course it would be inappropriate for me to have harmed them in any way when I collected Harry's things after first year," she said. "But I  _was_  in rather a temper, and I may have given them something of a tongue-lashing."

A round of quiet amusement went around the table. Minerva's scolds were infamous.

 

"Speaking of children growing up," Minerva said, turning back to Molly, "what are you going to do with yourself now the war is over? Even Ginny only has one more year until graduation, and Nymphadora isn't going to let you borrow Teddy all the time."

Molly shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "I've been a house-wife since Bill was born, I'm not exactly qualified for much. I suppose I'll find something to do with myself."

"Now that's nonsense," Augusta said firmly. "Not qualified? The amount of simultaneous charms I've seen you manage during the breakfast rush would impress anyone,  _and_  most of it you do non-verbally."

" _And_  I know you do a lot of the household potions yourself because it's cheaper," Andromeda added.

"Yes, well I can't exactly put that on a job application, can I?" Molly replied briskly. "Accomplished household witch? No-one cares!"

"Then get qualified," Minerva suggested. "Potions or charms, you're well on your way in terms of actual skills. You're close to a charms mastery by my guess, and probably journeyman stage in potions. I can speak to Filius if you'd like him to assess your skills."

"Besides, I know who  _does_  care about household witchery," Andromeda added. "Muggleborns. No-one ever teaches them."

"Now  _that's_  an idea," Augusta said triumphantly. "The Molly Weasley College of Household Witchcraft! Half these children graduate and don't know how to do their own laundry, they've been so coddled by house-elves all their life."

"I don't know how to teach," Molly objected, looking flustered (and a little delighted).

"Neither did I, when I started," Minerva replied. "Recruit the first course quietly from the MIA and use them to figure out your curriculum. Once you've sorted that lot out, you can advertise."

"It would bring in a nice bit of pin money, too," Andromeda added in. "I think, oh, four galleons an hour per head? That seems reasonable to me."

" _Four!_ "

Augusta nodded. "At the very least. In fact, I'd charge that for your first students, and then raise it to six. Keep in mind you'll need to cover expenses - ingredients and so on."

"And you'd need to find a venue," Andromeda said. "Not that the Burrow isn't lovely, but there's not enough room for ten students in that kitchen."

Molly was aghast. "You really think...you think people would pay that? That I'd get that many students? I'm just..."

"You're not 'just' anything." Minerva gave Molly a firm look. "You've spent far too long being dismissed as Arthur Weasley's wife, and he's a lovely man, but it doesn't do you nearly enough credit. You're a wife and a mother, but you're also your own woman, and you're worthy of respect and admiration in your own right. You're Molly Prewett, who's run the home front of two different wars, managed a nine-person household for almost two decades on a shoestring budget, and defeated Bellatrix Lestrange in pitched battle. You're not even fifty years old yet - don't resign yourself to the obscure obsolescence of old age. It's ludicrous, especially in a room full of women older than you. You've done your duty as a mother; now do something for  _you_."

There was a pause.

 

"Well," said Amelia, looking rather amused by the whole business. "It seems like it's all been decided. If I were you, Molly, I'd give in now; we've all seen what happens when these three go on the war path."

Molly's mouth opened and closed a few times, and then she laughed. "Oh all right then," she conceded. "I'll let you manage me. But not today, understand? I was having far too much fun gossiping for you to toss me into planning a whole new career."

Minerva smiled, conceding with a nod. "Another time, then."

"I'll hold back on the announcements," Andromeda agreed, with a sly smile. 

"And what about you, Andromeda?" Molly countered. "Are we going to address  _your_  career goals next?"

Augusta laughed. "I think reinstatement into the Black family, restoring the Black house, organising and advocating for the MIA, and her side job at the clinic ought to keep her busy, don't you think?"

"And I would  _not_ be surprised if I get recruited for some sort of Potter-Black werewolf enterprise sometime soon," Andromeda admitted. 

"Now that  _would_  be something," Amelia said. She glanced at her watch. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to go, I've got meetings scheduled this afternoon. I'll see you on Sunday for the ceremony? The program looks ridiculous, we're giving out OMs like candy, but they are deserved."

"I couldn't miss it," Augusta said dryly, standing up to open the door for her. "And I have no doubt I'll be meeting with you in an official capacity before then - I haven't checked my schedule past tomorrow."

Minerva smiled to herself: for Augusta to be so careless about her social schedule, she must trust Miss Granger with it implicitly. Good to know that was working out well.

"Andromeda, give my regards to Lord Black, and do remind him that the Ministry will be better able to back any reforms if he doesn't attack us about them," Amelia went on. "Minerva, it was a rare pleasure to take tea with you; let me know if you need any Ministry assistance or grants for the rebuilding. And Molly, good luck with the new enterprise - I'm sure I'll hear more about it soon."

 

Shortly after Amelia's departure, Teddy began to fuss, and Andromeda and Molly decided to take him home, leaving Augusta and Minerva alone with the tea things.

"I'm glad to have the chance to talk with you privately," Augusta admitted, gathering the tea things back onto their tray. "I have an...offer for you, one I hope you will be willing to accept.

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "Go on," she said curiously.

"For more than nine months of the year, your home must be Hogwarts," Augusta began, sounding rather more formal than she usually did when speaking only to Minerva. "But for the summers, it need not be. I understand you have a cottage in Hogsmeade?"

"Yes," Minerva replied quietly. "I bought it with Elphinstone. It took me some years to return there, but I am not so close with my brother's grandchildren that I am welcome at McGonagall Manse for an entire summer."

Augusta reached out, resting her hand on Minerva's. "I understand," she murmured. "It was hard at first, living here with my ghosts. I was wondering, perhaps, if you might be willing to quit the cottage permanently, and make Longbottom House your summer home?"

Minerva sat back, shocked. 

"I am quite serious," Augusta promised quickly. "I have greatly enjoyed our correspondence over the years, and consider you one of my dearest friends. The house is quite large enough for two; we need not be living in each other's pockets. It was built to house three generations of Longbottoms at a time, on the assumption that there would be multiple children in each generation. I can offer you an entire suite to yourself - a sitting room and personal library as well as bedroom and bathroom - and you would be welcome to consider it your own and furnish it however you wished."

"Augusta..." Minerva said carefully, "that is a  _very_  generous offer. I don't think we've spent three days consecutively in each other's company. Are you  _sure_?"

Augusta gave Minerva a stern look. "I am entirely sure. If it turns out we irritate each other to high heavens in large doses, we will stagger our meal times and it will be as if nothing had changed, and we were both old women living alone. But I believe that will not be the case. I suspect we will each welcome congenial company and sensible conversation, and to be quite frank with you, I'll be missing Neville and Harry in the summers, so some company wouldn't go amiss. Besides, you cannot be insensible that House Longbottom owes you its gratitude for your part in this war, and since gratitude is a terribly inconvenient thing, I'd rather it be friendship. Consider it for as long as you want, but the offer will stand."

After a long moment, Minerva nodded thoughtfully. "I will consider it," she promised. "And thank you. It's an honour to be asked."


	4. A Masterful Clock

Molly looked around her kitchen and sighed. She'd had the boys over for a family dinner last night, and of course they'd all stayed for breakfast, and the room was still a terrible mess, and - oh botheration, that was 'time to make tea', Professor Flitwick must be on its way.  _Why_  hadn't they connected the floo to the living room fireplace instead?

The fireplace flared green, and Professor Flitwick landed neatly, dusting soot off his robes with a silent sweep of his wand as he stepped out.

"Welcome to the Burrow, Professor," Molly said, letting habitual hospitality override her nervousness. "I'm so sorry about the mess, I'd invite you through to the living room, but I've got biscuits in the oven for us and they're just about done.

"Not at all, not at all," Professor Flitwick said happily, looking around with a smile. "You have a charming home, Mrs Weasley, and for fresh-baked biscuits, I am quite happy to stay in your lovely kitchen." He took a seat on what the children called 'the tall chair' - the one she'd kept for a child's height for nostalgic reasons well after she'd adjusted all the others to accommodate the boys' growth spurts. 

"Would you like tea?" Molly asked, directing the kettle to fill itself and start heating. 

Flitwick beamed at her, and she found herself relaxing a little. He really was very disarming. "That would be delightful," he said happily. "I must say, I do see why Minerva suggested I visit. Why, this home is just  _full_  of your magic, and so very friendly, too!"

Molly found herself blushing a little, and cleared her throat, distracting herself by getting cups for them both. "You say that like you can perceive the magic itself and not just its effects," she commented, searching for a topic.

"Oh yes," Flitwick replied. "A talent on - " he coughed " - on my mother's side."

The goblin side, he meant. Molly nodded politely. "That must be very useful when handling student mishaps," she commented. "I've no doubt it would have saved me a lot of trouble when Fred and George were younger."

Flitwick laughed. "Yes, no doubt!" he agreed delightedly. "I've been working on a spell to replicate the effects - would you like to try it?"

"Oh, absolutely," Molly said, only to be interrupted by an alarm from the oven. "Just let me get those biscuits out first."

"Of course, of course," Flitwick agreed, watching as Molly pulled out the tray with a levitation charm and transfigured the tray into a cooling rack.

 

"It's easier than transferring them from one to the other," she explained, coming over to sit. "And you only ever need a cooling rack for half an hour."

"No, no, it's ingenious!" Flitwick insisted. "Very apt use of transfiguration, very apt. Now, this spell of mine."

Molly nodded. "Is it related to the revealing charm?" she asked. "I suppose there's some connection, except that magic hasn't been hidden. It's naturally invisible, like air."

"Rather more like heat, actually," Flitwick replied, "but yes, that was my thinking as well. Do you know the temperature charm?"

Molly smiled, pointing her wand at the cooling biscuits and waving her wand in a fiddly little pattern, making them glow orange.

"Oh, excellently done!" Flitwick exclaimed. "And wordless too! Now, there's a variation on that charm, incantation 'thermos revelio', and the wand movement is like so." He demonstrated, without casting the spell. "See how the final jab is replaced by a sweep?"

"For an areal charm rather than a specific one," Molly concluded. "Thermos revelio!"

A large section of the kitchen was covered instantly in a haze of colour, fading gradually until Molly added, "Finite!"

"Very good, Mrs Weasley," Flitwick said. "Now magic, while it shares some properties with heat, is not the _same_ as heat, so some changes have to be made. The incantation is 'magiam revelio', but here, watch closely." The wand motion was complex, precise, and needed exact timing, and he made Molly practice is several times before he was satisfied. "Go ahead and try it," he directed, "but on a small area first, this one takes a lot of power."

Molly looked around the room, then decided to try the mantlepiece. "Magiam revelio!" she said, tracing her wand carefully through the required pattern - then screwed her eyes shut at the blaze of light that was revealed. 

"Finite!" Flitwick said quickly. "Oh dear, I should have warned you. With the floo powder and all those photographs - and not least, that _clock_ , the magic's almost as heavy there as it is at the sink where you've got active charms running."

 

Molly pressed a hand to her eyes, embarrassed. "I suppose I should have thought of that," she admitted. "I'm so used to them, I don't really think of them as enchanted."

"But that clock's marvellous!" Flitwick exclaimed. "How long have you had it?"

"Oh, I made it after Charlie was born," Molly explained, tentatively opening her eyes and relaxing when she found she could see clearly. "Bill was on his feet by then, and everything was so hectic I'd forget my own head next. I made the big one when I found out I was expecting twins, and a good thing too, because I didn't get an hour's peace from the day they were born until they started at Hogwarts, except when they were asleep."

Filitwick laughed. "I can well believe it," he agreed. "But please, there's a larger one? You /must/ show me, I'd love to see it."

Molly conceded, leading Flitwick through to the living room with nervous anticipation.

When he saw the grandfather clock, Flitwick was struck speechless for a long moment. "This is absolutely _extraordinary,”_ he finally said. "Using a clock to measure situational 'times', well, that's in the nature of a clock, even with the divinatory elements you must have included. But this...twenty years old, you said? Do you renew the charms regularly, or is the original enchantment still strong? And you must have added hands since you made it, and locations too, I believe - did you have to recast the spells on the whole thing? Using a clock's nature of reflecting the external world, yes, of course, but translating that to location. And 'trouble' too, a figurative rather than physical position, that's remarkable. Remarkable!" Flitwick seized Molly's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "This is a master-work," he declared, "and you earned your charms mastery the day you completed it."

"Oh my goodness," Molly said, her free hand going to her chest. "Just for this? Really?"

"No," Flitwick insisted. "For everything I've seen since I came here. Absolutely effortless wordless magic, several _highly_ sophisticated spells running without any active maintenance, your immediate grasp of the theory I described, succeeding at two unknown spells on the first try - one of them experimental...not a single spell you've had running has faltered without an active finite. And the spell creation necessary for each of those clocks is your crowning glory, you really _must_ publish! In 'Challenges in Charms', or maybe 'Bewitched'. No, 'Artefacts Enchanted' would be better, it really does fit that category best...well, whichever journal you choose, you _must_ publish!"

 

 

 

The whole thing left Molly extremely flustered, and she was still in something of a daze when Arthur came home.

"Molly?" he called out. "Lady Longbottom said I ought to bring you flowers, but she wouldn't tell me why. Is everything alright?"

"I'm in the living room!" she called back, and indeed she was, studying the twenty-year-old clock that was apparently a master-work. "Oh goodness, is that the time? What's happened to Ginny? I haven't seen her since breakfast!"

Arthur gestured at the clock, where Ginny's hand pointed directly to 'with friends'. "She's staying the night with the Lovegood’s, remember?" Arthur reminded her, sitting down and taking her hands. "Mollywobbles, what's happened?"

She looked up, squeezing his hands, her eyes a bit teary. "Professor Flitwick came over today," she explained slowly.

"Is something wrong at the school?" Arthur asked. "Something about one of the children?"

Molly shook her head. "Minerva said he should visit." She paused. "He said I'm a Charms Master, Arthur," she revealed. "He said - he said I earned it twenty years ago. He thinks I should publish about our clock."

It took Arthur a moment to process; then he beamed, wrapping Molly up in a hug. "But that's  _wonderful_ , love," he exclaimed. "Congratulations! We'll have to go out to dinner to celebrate."

"Oh, nonsense," Molly scoffed, "we can't afford that! Summers are expensive!"

Arthur sat back, looking Molly in the eye. "We've only got two of the kids still at home, and for the first time since 1982, we only have to buy one set of school supplies in August." He kissed her fondly. "I'm not a rich man, but I can pay for the two of us to have dinner down in the village to celebrate your mastery. And we've the house to ourselves tonight, too. Let me congratulate you properly."

"Oh!" Molly blushed a little. "If you're sure..."

"Very sure," Arthur said firmly. "I am absolutely determined to spend tonight demonstrating my  _full_  appreciation for my wonderful, clever, beautiful wife."


	5. A New Enterprise

A couple of months later, Molly (with repeated editing input from Andromeda) oversaw the printing of several dozen copies of the following pamphlet:

 

_Dear _________,_

_Thank you for your interest in Molly Weasley's College of Household Witchcraft! We aim to provide a course that is practical, straightforward, and welcoming for the complete beginner. Whether you've always had house elves or just grew up doing it the muggle way, the College of Household Witchcraft is here to teach you the charms, potions, and simple tricks to keep your home cozy, your kitchen clean, and your table covered in well-cooked meals._

 

_Our beginners course (Back to Basics) is an eight week program of two-hour classes on the following topics:_

  * _Simple spells for surface cleaning_
  * _Getting to know the kitchen: breakfast basics_
  * _Doing dishes the easy way_
  * _Stove-top cooking: steaming, boiling, and stewing_
  * _Washing, drying, and folding: simple laundry skills_
  * _Is it done yet? Cooking meat for just long enough_
  * _Stains, grime, and unpleasant messes_
  * _Home-made treats: bread, biscuits, and cakes_



_Each class is twelve galleons, which may be paid per class, or the total (ninety-six galleons) may be paid in advance. Payment plans and other accommodations for financial circumstance are available on request. This covers the venue (Longbottom House), ingredients and tools, and printing of class materials. Students are welcome to take home the food they make in class, and each student will be given a booklet of Molly Weasley's recipes, recommendations, and favourite household spells at the conclusion of the course._

 

_To enroll in the Back to Basics course, or to receive updates on future course offerings, contact us at:_

_Molly Weasley's College of Household Witchcraft_

_The Burrow_

_Ottery St Catchpole_

 

_Molly Weasley, Head of the College of Household Witchcraft, Charms Master, O.M. (1st Class)_

 

Within three years, the College had expanded to include six intermediate courses (Intermediate Cooking; Intermediate Cleaning; Useful Potions to Make at Home; First-aid and Child-care for the New Parent; Mending and Household Repairs; and Witchcraft for the Vegetable Garden) and three advanced courses (Too Many Jobs and Not Enough Hands: Simultaneous Spellcasting; Knitting with Charms; and Cheaper by the Dozen: Cooking for the Extended Family), and was doing enough business for Molly to seriously consider hiring an assistant. At least for the summer months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: I've marked this one as complete, because I think it is, but I may or may not add additional chapters at some point in the future


End file.
